


feels like we only go backwards

by orphan_account



Category: South Park
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 20:08:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8910292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Tweek balks, feels his insides freeze with a familiar tension. This is so far from what he thought his day was going to be like that he can barely process anything. He can do this. There’s no reason to be nervous about it. He goes skydiving all the time. He sang onstage alongside Keira Knightley. He made out with Kenny in a room full of producers. He can have coffee with his ex-boyfriend he hasn’t seen in six years, and who is currently standing in front of him looking pleased to see him, whereas the old Craig wouldn’t have been caught dead raising an eyebrow, much less displaying any outward show of emotion. Yeah, Tweek can’t do this.





	

To be completely honest, Tweek has no idea what he’s even doing in Madrid. He _should_ be on his way to Barcelona as per Wendy’s strict orders (and Tweek must really have a death wish, to be defying Wendy this way), but here he is, strolling along the Gran Vía, drinking in the culture clash and trying to make sense of all the signs around him.

He walks past a movie theater and nearly cringes when he catches sight of his own self beaming down at the people on the street, the date for his film’s scheduled release being flashed in bold, bright letters that are almost impossible to miss. Tweek ducks his head and quickly heads down a random side street, hoping he didn’t manage to draw too much attention to himself. 

It’s been approximately three years since the remake of _The Phantom of the Opera_ that had launched his career into skyrocketing stardom, but Tweek can barely wrap his head around the fact that he’s an _actor_ to begin with. (Kenny claims that it’s his natural inclination towards the dramatic that had steered him down this path, but since Kenny is also his most sought-after co-star, Tweek thinks he’s got zero legs to stand on as far as theatrics are concerned.)

Tweek’s wandering aimlessly about the cobblestone paths when he spots a small coffeehouse that’s practically calling out to him. He orders his usual with a minimum amount of difficulty and settles himself down on one of the outdoor tables, unwilling to stay cooped up inside on such a nice day. He’s two cups down, one hand raised so he can flag down the waitress for another, when he spots him walking down the sidewalk. 

His face is half-covered by this ridiculously huge pair of Aviators, but Tweek’s sure that he’d be able to recgonize him just about anywhere. It’s not the fact that he’s wearing a black jacket in the middle of the summer, or the camera slung around his neck that gives it away. It’s not the way he slouches slightly as he walks, hands always jammed deep into his pockets. 

Tweek sees him and in that millisecond, his breath catches in his throat, his heart beating just that much faster. That’s how he knows it’s him.

Since Tweek’s hand is still hanging lamely up in the air, this is what ultimately catches his attention. He turns slowly towards Tweek, his easy gait faltering slightly when he finally notices him. There’s a brief pause, a second of indecision, and then he’s moving towards where Tweek is seated, and Tweek wonders if the amazement on his own expression is reflected underneath those glasses. 

“Holy shit,” he comments in surprise, and it’s the fact that the sentiment in his voice is so overwhelmingly evident that makes Tweek feel like he’s been punched in the gut. Craig reaches up and pulls the glasses off, folding them together and shoving them into his back pocket. “Tweek, how are you?” he greets, and then his mouth is stretching into a smile. 

Tweek gets to his feet, still somewhat in a daze. The Craig he’d known would never let such blatant emotion color his tone, not even the Craig he keeps inside his head. But this is still _Craig_ , so Tweek shakes his head to knock himself out of it, and returns the smile. “It’s been, what?” 

“Six years?” Craig finishes for him, an uncharacteristic uncertainty in his reply, though they both know how long it’s been since they’ve last seen each other. 

This hits Tweek harder than it should. He hadn’t really been aware of how much time had actually passed since high school graduation and now, but he regards Craig carefully, a little disappointed to find that the two people whose relationship had once been the sole cause of joy for their small town are now reduced to a little more than strangers. 

“What are you doing here, anyway?” Craig asks him, his question breaking the brief awkward silence that had fallen over them. Tweek doesn’t remember there being much of those in their relationship before. “Shouldn’t the famous Tweek Tweak be in Barcelona for your movie premiere?” 

Tweek rolls his eyes, feeling himself shifting into their former dynamic at the bite of sarcasm in Craig’s inquiry. “I’m hardly famous,” he protests, making a face. “This is what Wendy gets for letting me book my own ticket. My flight leaves tomorrow morning.” 

“I can’t believe she’s still your manager,” Craig notes, his eyebrows lifting. “She’s honestly always scared me,” he admits, and Tweek can’t help but laugh at that. Partly because Wendy’s always terrified _everyone_ , and mostly because he’s shocked Craig would even admit something like that out loud. 

“What about you?” Tweek returns the question, eyeing the fancy gear hanging from Craig’s neck. “What are you doing in Madrid?” 

Craig scoffs lightly. “Work stuff, what else?” he replies, gesturing at the camera. “Kyle’s covering the elections in the city and wanted me around to take pictures.” He hesitates for a second, and then he adds, “Mind if I join you?” with a pointed glance at the empty coffee cups littering the surface of the table. 

Tweek balks, feels his insides freeze with a familiar tension. This is so far from what he thought his day was going to be like that he can barely process anything. He can do this. There’s no reason to be nervous about it. He goes skydiving all the time. He sang onstage alongside Keira Knightley. He made out with Kenny in a room full of producers. 

He can have coffee with his ex-boyfriend he hasn’t seen in six years, and who is currently standing in front of him _looking_ pleased to see him, whereas the old Craig wouldn’t have been caught dead raising an eyebrow, much less displaying any outward show of emotion. 

Yeah, Tweek can’t do this. 

But Craig is still surveying at him, and there’s a faint shimmer of disappointment reflected in his gaze, so Tweek finds himself nodding before he can really think to check it. Before he knows it, Craig is sitting on one of the stools across from him, ordering something from the menu like a local. 

It shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise that Craig is fluent in Spanish, but Tweek is still unprepared for the rush of blood that pools itself in the pit of his stomach, this only serving to deepen the blush on his cheeks when Craig catches him staring. 

“It was Kyle’s idea,” he tells Tweek with a roll of his eyes. “He’s always going on and on about being global, so we’re all pretty familiar with European languages.” 

Tweek nods, impressed. “Kyle has always been pretty determined.” 

“He’s a total fucking slave driver,” Craig remarks, leaning back in his seat. “Stan’s used to it and I’m pretty sure it turns Cartman on, but trust me, you don’t want me to get into that,” he says, his mouth curled in distaste. 

Tweek chuckles softly, and Craig shoots him a questioning look. “Do you know how weird it is to hear you call them Stan and Kyle instead of Marsh and Broflovski?”

“Yeah, well,” Craig starts, stirring sugar into the drink placed in front of him, “working with them was pretty much the last thing I thought I’d end up doing, so.” 

“You’ve always liked taking pictures, though,” Tweek points out, a little bit fondly. “Kenny mentioned that they featured some of your stuff on National Geographic last month.” 

Craig shrugs, seemingly unaffected, but the tips of his ears turn slightly red. “How is McCormick, anyway?” He takes a sip from his drink, purses his lips, then throws more sugar into the mix. “All that fame get into his head yet?” 

“Hardly,” Tweek answers back honestly, because for all that he’s made a name for himself, Kenny’s never forgotten his roots, never forgotten where he started from. “I could probably do without all the rumors about us, though.” 

Craig immediately snorts, one side of his mouth lifting slightly upwards. “I take it the two of you didn’t have a passionate off-screen affair, then?” 

“I have no idea where all those even started,” Tweek argues, waving a hand to the side as if to dismiss the speculation that’s still following him around, even more so with the upcoming release of their latest movie together.

“I hate to break it to you,” Craig begins, tilting forward and regarding Tweek with a conspiratorial gleam in his eye, “but your performance at the Oscars last year was the gayest Raoul and the Phantom I’ve ever seen.”

Tweek’s mouth drops open in offense, and Craig laughs a little before going on. “Seriously. Stan almost bet fifty bucks on the two of you forgetting Keira and having a go at each other onstage.” 

“I hate you,” Tweek states as empathetically as possible, and Craig’s grin grows impossibly more smug. “I can’t believe you watched that,” he groans, running a hand through his hair. 

“It’s Cartman, dude,” Craig defends, returning to his original position. “I’m pretty sure he tapes all of Kenny’s shit. The guy actually has a heart, go figure.” 

“Is that really you in there?” Tweek squints at him, his figure becoming a blur of black and dark blue as he does so. “Because I’m pretty sure the Craig I know wouldn’t compliment Eric Cartman. Didn’t you once refer to him as the epitome of evil?” 

“He’s not…completely terrible,” Craig eventually grits out, like the confession is being forced from him unwillingly. Tweek beams at him triumphantly, and Craig tosses a napkin at him in retribution. “Besides,” he says, rolling his shoulders back, “a lot has changed since then.” 

Tweek meets Craig’s glance and feels the air around them grow thick with the weight of unspoken words. He doesn’t want to get into that now, or ever, really. “Yeah, I guess they have.”

—

They’re walking side by side along another lesser known path, passing by endless plazas and shops, the light from the sinking sun washing everything in shades of pink and orange. Craig’s in the middle of telling him a story, his hands moving around as he gains momentum, and Tweek doesn’t realize how much he’s missed this until now. 

“I wake up, and there’s this e-mail from Kyle, basically him bitching at me and Stan because we apparently forgot to sign the releases on some of the pictures that we’re using for the next issue, right? So we head over to the office at six in the fucking morning, and you know how I am about mornings—”

“You mean borderline demonic?” Tweek quips playfully, and Craig levels a glare at him. 

“Anyway, so Stan and I get there, and we open the door to the main room, and there’s Cartman, handcuffed to a fucking chair, and Kyle’s in front of him wearing this ripped T-shirt with the words _Kyley-B_ printed on it. Seriously, dude, it was fucking traumatic. He had all these gold chains on and his hair was a mess. That’s the day we found out Cartman’s got a huge kink for Jersey boys,” Craig finishes with a shudder. 

“I really could have lived the rest of my life not knowing that,” Tweek tells him, his mind already struggling to erase the images that Craig’s tale brought to light. 

“Tough shit,” Craig says, quirking a brow at him. “I had to witness it, so I’m planning on taking everyone down with me.” 

“You always had the best threats,” Tweek deadpans, and Craig suddenly pulls at his elbow, steering him towards a record store, the colors on its striped awning faded with age and the windows dark and dusty. 

The interior of the shop is about as musty as it looks, the small space crowded with stacks of old records, precariously piled on top of each other. Tweek idly flicks through old copies of The Smiths albums, while Craig hunts through the rows of disks, apparently searching for something. 

Eventually, Craig extracts a worn plastic square from the middle of a pile, and he inclines his head in the direction of the listening booth at the back. There’s barely enough room inside it for two people, so Tweek stands pressed against Craig’s chest, the steady beat of his heart almost as familiar to him as his own. 

“Remember how shitty your taste was before me?” Craig jokes, fiddling around with the controls and handing Tweek a pair of headphones. 

Before Tweek can open his mouth to protest, music starts flooding through the speakers, loud and clear. It’s Hall and Oates’ “Rich Girl”, and Tweek is instantly transported back to countless nights on the roof of Craig’s house, a six-pack of beer in between them, and the endless, star-scattered light dancing in front of their eyes, always so untouchable and far away. 

From the way Craig’s looking at him, Tweek wonders if he can remember every minute of those moments as vividly as he can. It’s strange, the way things return to people so easily. Tweek hasn’t allowed himself to think of Craig in years, everything he knows about him being passed down by either Clyde or Kenny, but this melody shakes something inside him, causing the long-forgotten gears of memory to spring back to life. 

They’re quiet as the leave the shop, the atmosphere surrounding them clouded over with unwanted familiarity and nostalgia. It’s been six years, and in a sense, they’re both completely different and yet still the same. 

It’s dark by the time they return to the main alley, the roads aglow with thousands of fluorescent lights all blending together in a pleasant whirl of color, and the noise of the busy streets around them. Craig directs them towards a tiny restaurant he claims serves the most authentic food, its ceiling low and the air smelling faintly of cigarette smoke. 

Craig places their orders, the words rolling effortlessly off his tongue. Tweek just watches him, still trying to pick apart this new Craig and piece him back together with the fragments of what remains of Tweek’s image of him. 

“Remember Michael?” Craig asks suddenly, his statement rushed like he wants to get it out before Tweek can hear. 

“Oh, God, like you’d ever let me forget,” Tweek groans, running a hand down his face. “What about it?” 

“Nothing,” Craig answers back, and there’s a small smile playing around the corners of his mouth. “I think that was the day I realized you were going to be an actor.” 

Tweek blinks at him in disbelief. “Because I made you out to be a cheater?” 

“Because you managed to convince _everyone_ I was a cheater, man,” Craig corrects him, and there’s amusement lurking beneath the expression on his features. “Seriously, even Clyde wouldn’t talk to me after that.” 

“Clyde’s always been dramatic,” Tweek notes, like he hasn’t just uttered the understatement of the century, and Craig snorts. “When’s Bebe due again? I promised her I’d be in town for the birth of baby Stevens-Donovan.” 

“Start of March,” Craig tells him, drumming his fingers lightly on the white tablecloth. 

The waiter places a basket of bread in the center of the table, and Tweek immediately reaches for it, only noticing how hungry he actually is. Dunking a chunk of bread into the olive oil mix in front of him, he asks, “Are you going to be there?” 

“What kind of question is that? Clyde’s going to be a dad!” Tweek’s surprised by the force of Craig’s reply, and at the same time, it makes his insides a little warm. Craig really is a different person after all. 

Then Craig follows that up with, “Statistically speaking, Clyde’s bound to either burst into tears or faint at the sight of all that blood. Either way, I going to take pictures,” and Tweek suppresses an eye roll. Maybe not. 

“Glad to see some things haven’t changed,” Tweek comments, taking a sip of water. The lights around them are low and flickering, bouncing off them and bathing Craig in warm brightness. 

“You’d be surprised,” Craig murmurs, his voice soft enough that Tweek wonders if maybe he wasn’t supposed to hear that. Then he jerks his head forward and faces Tweek again. “You know, Stan told me about you,” Craig starts. “Apparently you’re some kind of adrenaline junkie now.” 

“It’s nothing.” Tweek attempts a shrug, trying and failing to stop the flush from rising to his cheeks. “Guess I’m just trying to do everything I was too scared to do when I was younger.” 

“But why now?” Craig prompts, leaning towards him, his gaze curious. “What’s with the skiing and the skydiving?” 

Tweek takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what he’s about to say. “It’s because of you mostly,” he admits, and a flash of genuine shock rolls through Craig’s features. “I meant what I said when I told you that you made me believe in myself. I guess I just want to see how far that confidence you gave me goes.”

Everything suddenly feels compressed into this one moment, all of time standing still as they sit across from each other, simultaneously mere inches and a million miles apart. Maybe Tweek shouldn’t have said that, maybe he should have just left the past where it belongs. 

Craig seems to get that, because at the end of the day, he’s still Craig Tucker, master of stoic and detachment, and for someone who has never had a need for emotion, he’s especially good at reading them in people. “So, you’re playing Allen Ginsberg, huh?” he mentions, changing the topic, and Tweek doesn’t know if he should be grateful or not. 

“I’ve recited ‘Howl’ so many times, I once woke Kenny up by yelling it in my sleep,” Tweek informs him dryly. That isn’t even an exaggeration; Kenny has the whole thing on video. It was only by Wendy threatening him with his life did he promise not to upload all of it on Twitter. 

“I assume Kenny is playing Peter Orlovksy?” Craig guesses, and Tweek nods. “Man,” Craig snorts, “you’re really not making it easier to get rid of those rumors, huh?” 

“I did sleep with him once,” Tweek confesses, the words slipping from him unfounded. “It was a moment of weakness,” he defends in the wake of Craig’s incredulous stare. 

It was after a particularly difficult scene during filming, when tensions were running high and Tweek could barely distinguish his own feelings from his character’s. They’d lazily made out and blown each other, and the next day Kenny ordered them breakfast and they silently agreed to never do it again.

“I had a crush on Kyle when I first started working with them.” Craig’s admission is so surprising, his eyes hard and his jaw clenched, as if daring Tweek to make fun of him, that Tweek can’t help but giggle in reply. 

“It lasted about a month,” Craig protests hotly, and this only causes Tweek to start laughing in earnest. “Then I realized he was so far up Cartman’s ass, there would be no point.”

When Tweek calms down, Craig is still glaring at him, but he’s able to detect a hint of humor cutting through the dark scowl. “To think how much you hated them when we were kids,” he comments. “Sometimes I think high school was the best time of my life,” he adds off-handedly, like he doesn’t really mean it. 

But Craig matches Tweek’s stare with one of his own, and in the light of the fading candle, the chatter of the patrons reduced to a faint hum in the backdrop, he seems almost otherworldly. “Same here.”

—

Craig’s inside some convenience store buying cigarettes when Tweek’s phone rings. Not wanting to interrupt the rather heated discussion Craig’s currently engaged in with the shop owner, Tweek wanders out into the night before pressing the phone to his ear. 

“Hey, Tweek,” Kenny’s voice greets him, laced with faux-cheer. “I was just wondering where you are and how you’re doing.” 

Tweek pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and lets out a gusty sigh. “Wendy’s forcing you make to this call, isn’t she?” 

“Dude, if she brought her gun with her she’d be pointing it at my head right now.” Kenny’s tone immediately changes, his sentences growing urgent. “Seriously, man, where are you?” 

“Uh,” Tweek begins, checking over his shoulder as if he needs to remind himself where he is and who exactly he’s with. “I’m in Madrid.” 

“Okay,” Kenny replies slowly, obviously waiting for some kind of added explanation. “Any reason you’re there in particular, or…?” He trails off, giving Tweek the space to continue. 

“It’s—I’m with Craig,” Tweek whispers lowly, making sure to keep his phone’s mouthpiece close to his lips. 

“Craig?” Kenny echoes in confusion. “Craig, as in Craig Tucker? Your ex-boyfriend of ten million years?” 

“Yeah, that Craig,” Tweek hisses, rolling his eyes even though he knows Kenny can’t see him. “We ran into each other on the street, apparently he’s here for work.” 

“Shit, man, I don’t know what to say,” Kenny says, and Tweek can hear him typing in the background. No doubt he’s sending out some kind of cryptic message on his Twitter account as they speak. “I’ll cover for you for now, but you better get over here as soon as possible.” 

“I’ve got a flight booked for tomorrow,” Tweek tells him, gratitude washing over him and submerging him in relief. “Thanks, Kenny.” 

“Be careful, yeah?” Kenny cautions, which is admittedly uncharacteristically sweet of him, looking out for Tweek like this. “Is he still the same old asshole?” 

“Kind of?” Tweek’s not completely sure he’d be able to explain all the ways Craig’s changed, yet still managed to retain some of his old self. He supposes Craig must be feeling the same way about him. “He’s more expressive now. Seems genuinely interested in things.” 

“I guess I gotta see that to believe it,” Kenny says with a low whistle. “So, uh.” There’s a beat of silence, and Tweek can practically taste Kenny’s hesitation. Then he blurts out, “Did he mention Stan at all?” 

“Just ask him out already,” Tweek snaps, unwilling to listen to another extended rant about Kenny’s longtime feelings for his childhood best friend. The hours they spend together during filming have given him enough descriptions of Stan’s mouth. “Or better yet, go to Wendy for advice.” 

“Right,” Kenny says sarcastically, drawing the word out. “Because I’m totally gonna go up to our manager and ask if I can date her ex-boyfriend.”

“I’m pretty sure Ryan Gosling was hitting on her at the last award show,” Tweek counters, moving to stand under a streetlamp when the clouds shift. “Trust me, she doesn’t want Stan back.” 

Before Kenny can argue, there’s an unexpected burst of static from the other end, and Tweek listens to a mumbled conversation occur over on Kenny’s side. “Shit, gotta go, dude. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Kenny hangs up and Tweek’s left with the dial tone ringing in his ears. He startles when he hears a shift of movement from behind, and then Craig is standing next to him, a cigarette hanging from one end of his mouth.

“Done talking to your boyfriend?” Craig queries, and despite how light he’s trying to make the question come off, Tweek still detects an edge of _something_ in his tone. 

Tweek scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest when a gust of wind blows through him. “He wishes,” he responds dismissively, and Craig, very slowly, smiles. 

Despite the late hour, the streets are still full and teeming with activity, the small bars along the main road with their doors open wide and people spilling out in groups all around them, glasses in their hands and excited chattering filling the air. 

The two of them walk with no precise destination in mind, and suddenly they’re standing in the middle of an empty plaza lined with trimmed trees, benches scattered in between the plants. There’s a fountain gurgling in the middle of the brick walkway, the light from the moon bouncing off the water. 

The night sky overhead is scattered with stars, and when Tweek turns his head to the side, Craig is staring up at them, the look of quiet awe on his face reminiscent of the many other times Tweek’s watched him like this. Still the same old dork obsessed with space. 

“Do you remember the last time we saw each other?” Craig says apropos of nothing, and it’s funny, how out of all the things they’ve brought up today, this is the one that makes Tweek take a step back and think, the most poignant memory of all.

Tweek doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to forget the night of their high school graduation party. Half the school had been crowded into Token’s mansion, laughter and empty promises circulating through the room, the future about to dawn on the horizon and the ticking of time dangling over their heads. 

Craig had been steadfastly avoiding Tweek all evening, the same way he’d been doing so ever since he heard about Tweek’s audition. Even though Tweek knew it was coming, it was only when Craig finally pulled him outside and uttered what he’d undoubtedly been practicing for all week did it hit Tweek that the relationship he’d been in for almost half his life was over.

“I was going to ask you to stay,” Craig admits quietly, not meeting Tweek’s eyes. He looks almost annoyed at the confession pouring out of him, even now unwilling to acknowledge the full intensity of it. “Token and Clyde knew. I had this whole video I was going to show you.”

“So why didn’t you?” Tweek throws back, and he’s shaking very slightly in place. He’s not entirely sure he wants to hear the rest, because the past is past for a reason, and maybe they shouldn’t be fucking with propriety like this. 

“Because you would’ve stayed,” Craig replies dully, finally jerking his head upwards to stare at Tweek. “Because I was going to school in New York and you were headed off to Los Angeles and it just wouldn’t have worked out.”

“I—you can’t just—you didn’t get to decide that,” Tweek grits out, and here he is, stammering like he hasn’t done in so long while Craig watches impassively from behind his old defenses. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe things haven’t changed after all. 

“Long distance never works,” Craig says firmly, like he’s still trying to convince himself of the truth of this statement. 

“I—” _It would have worked for us_ , Tweek wishes he could tell him, wishes that Craig had given him the chance to persuade him otherwise. But that’s Craig for you, and once he gets something in his head, it’s pretty futile trying to get him to think the opposite. 

“Besides,” Craig goes on, seemingly unaware of the impact that his thoughts have on Tweek’s insides, “I told you we’d be better off as friends, right? Look at us now, it’s been almost seven hours and we still haven’t killed each other.” 

Tweek laughs hollowly, the sound reverberating through the empty space around them, because this isn’t friendship, not even close. Tweek hasn’t been in love in years, but he’s come to realize that it’s something that never really leaves you, even with six years stretching those memories apart. 

“Did you even care?” he demands suddenly, the tightness that’s lodged in his throat trying to claw its way out. “About me?” He thinks back to all those moments fraught with indecision and uncertainty, when Craig would retreat into himself so much that Tweek was afraid he’d never be able to draw him back out. 

But he managed to do so every time, and maybe he was stupid enough to think that this would be all it took to get Craig to stay.

Silence greets his inquiry, and Tweek tries very hard to keep himself rooted in place. He can see Craig struggling internally, trying to fight off the natural instinct to keep a lid on his emotions. Eventually, in a voice so low that Tweek’s not sure if he’s merely imagining it, Craig says, “You know I did.”

Tweek nods slowly. “Okay,” he replies, because he does know. He’s always known. In the distance, a clock chimes twelve times, and Tweek checks his own watch in surprise. “Shit, it’s midnight?” he hisses, staring at Craig in panic. 

“You need to go, don’t you?” Craig observes accurately, and Tweek wants so badly to tell him something else. It’s almost ironic, how this time around, it’s Tweek who’s leaving. For some reason, Tweek can’t get his mouth to work, doesn’t want to be the one to put an end to this evening. 

“We better get going, then.” Craig’s subdued declaration slices into his thoughts, and when Tweek comes back to himself, Craig’s already a few steps away. Tweek quickly catches up with him, and they fall into step together as they start trying to navigate their way back. 

“I always thought we’d end up in Europe, you know,” Craig informs him as they weave past all the people still walking along the streets. 

Tweek lifts a skeptical brow at him, his heart thudding slightly in his chest. “Yeah?” 

“Well, I assumed it was going to be somewhere like Russia, and that we would have been there as unwilling participants in one of Stan’s stupid plans,” Craig clarifies immediately, and Tweek scoffs in surprise. So much for that notion of romance. Then Craig adds, with a sideways glance at Tweek, “But we’d be together. That was the important part.” 

“You really know how to make a guy feel special,” Tweek deadpans, unwilling to acknowledge the way his chest tightens then expands at the hidden meaning behind Craig’s words. 

“Only when it comes to you,” Craig returns with a grin, and Tweek doesn’t want to know how much truth there is to that. Frankly, his head is ready to explode. 

They finally stop in front of Tweek’s hotel, one of the more upscale ones right by the park. The easy banter of the last few hours has ebbed away, leaving the daunting feeling of having to say goodbye in its wake. Tweek doesn’t want to do this, doesn’t even know _how_ to do this again. 

“Stand there,” Craig orders him, stepping back and just observing Tweek. Even in the dim light, his gray eyes stand out, piercing right through him, and this makes Tweek shiver involuntarily under the weight of his gaze.

“What are you doing?” Tweek asks him, fighting the desire to cross his arms over his chest and turn away. The strange tension that’s been lurking beneath the surface of their interactions has finally broken through, flooding his body with unwanted emotion.

“The last time we talked, you refused to look at me,” Craig starts, like Tweek needs reminding. Then he slowly lifts his camera up to his face and snaps a picture, the flash almost blinding. “This is how I want to remember you,” he continues, and Tweek can’t speak. 

Then Craig is in front of him, reaching out and pulling Tweek towards him, engulfing him in his tight hold, his face partially buried in Tweek’s hair. It’s the first time they’ve touched all day, and Tweek gives himself a second to marvel over the fact that they’re still a great fit after all these years. He breathes deeply, allowing himself to pretend that this isn’t the end, because the end came six years ago. 

“You should go,” Craig says when they separate, and Tweek almost reaches for him again before returning his hand back down to his side. “I don’t want your blood on my hands when Wendy finds out you haven’t packed yet.” 

“I guess this is goodbye,” Tweek replies, and Craig gives him a sharp incline of his head before he swivels around and walks away. “I’ll see you,” Tweek adds to himself, his voice soft as he watches Craig’s figure disappear around the corner. Craig’s never been one to take empty promises.

Tweek tilts his head in the direction of the darkening sky and closes his eyes, trying to control the pounding of his heart and the rush of blood thrumming underneath his skin. Then he pushes through the double doors and enters his hotel, leaving everything behind as he does.

—

Barcelona is nothing like Madrid. The streets are wide and bursting with life and sound, cars honking on the roads and tourists swarming around the area like flies. The summer sun sits high atop white clouds, casting its warm rays on everything it touches. 

The premiere goes off without a hitch, and Wendy pointedly says nothing in response to the dark circles under Tweek’s eyes, or the fact that he goes through the motions locked in some sort of daze, his mind still trapped in a different city. When the house lights go on and he and Kenny ascend the stairs to the stage amidst the sound of tumultuous applause, Tweek forces himself back into the present, back into his own reality. 

The initial round of questions consist of the standard ones thrown at them by journalists and film reviewers, and Tweek lets Kenny take the reins on those, his Wendy-approved responses sliding off this tongue without missing a beat. Then it’s time for the audience ones, and despite himself, Tweek feels a little nervous. 

A shy-looking college student goes first. “Mr. Tweak, this is for you,” she begins, clearing her throat. “I’m sure everyone here is aware of your sexuality, so did you feel as if that played a part in your being cast as Allen Ginsberg?” 

“Trust me, it’s really because he’s a huge nerd,” Kenny says into the microphone, and the entire audience dissolves into laughter. He aims a wink in Tweek’s direction, who rolls his eyes before turning to speak. 

“Sexuality really has nothing to do with an actor’s ability,” Tweek explains, gesturing at the stage. “I didn’t factor that in when I prepared for the role, and my portrayal of Allen was my own interpretation of him based on the material given.” 

The next few questions are all directed at Kenny by a group of giggling girls who want to know everything from the kinds of hair products he uses to whether or not he’s single. Kenny answers them all easily enough, but Tweek can see Wendy seething in annoyance from the wings; she hates the vapid ones. 

“This one is for the two leads,” a young man tells them. “I’m sure you know that there are a lot of rumors floating around about your off-camera relationship. Can you comment on those?”

“Well, considering the nature of the film, it’s pretty common to have stuff like that coming up,” Tweek hastily replies, watching the grin on Kenny’s face grow alarmingly large. “Despite what Kenny wishes, the two of us are just friends,” he finishes, and another bout of laughter rocks through the crowd.

“Before we wrap up,” Kenny interjects quickly, and there’s something about the tone of his voice that causes Tweek to feel on edge. “I think we’ve got another audience question for Tweek, but this one’s in video form.” 

“What are you doing?” Tweek hisses at him, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. But Kenny is already waving for someone to start the projector, like he’s been planning this for years. Tweek peers over Kenny’s shoulder towards where Wendy is standing, and she doesn’t look horrified, just a little expectant. They’ve been talking behind his back. 

“I will kill you,” Tweek vows harshly, glaring daggers at Kenny, who merely shrugs in reply, his gaze already turned to the screen behind them. 

There’s a sudden burst of noise, low music playing in the background, and then the camera shifts and Craig’s face is staring down at him, his eyes glassy and unfocused. The time stamp at the lower right corner of the frame tells Tweek that this video was shot a few days before their high school graduation. 

“So, Craig,” Token’s cheerful voice says from the screen, “why are we making this video today?” 

“Because I need to tell Tweek I love him,” Craig slurs, wobbling in place slightly. Tweek can see Clyde prancing around in the background, singing along to the song playing on the radio. 

“How much do you love him?” Token prompts, and the camera pans away for a second before Craig unceremoniously yanks it back and points it at himself again. 

“A lot,” Craig replies instantly, and Tweek actually hears a collective sigh emanating from the audience behind him. “Like, so much, dude,” Craig adds, waving an arm around. “I have, like, actual _feelings_ for him, you know?” 

“Let it be put on record that Craig Tucker is capable of emotion,” Token proclaims, his tone low and dramatic. Craig opens his mouth to comment, and Tweek finds himself gripping the edges of his chair, wondering how much longer this is going to go on. 

He gets his answer approximately six seconds later when Clyde crashes into a glass window and Token drops the camera to the ground with a yelled, “Shit!” The image of Craig stays frozen on the screen for a bit longer, then everything goes blank. 

The moment the video ends, the audience erupts into confused murmurings, the whispers crashing over Tweek like a tidal wave. He’s glowering at Kenny so darkly, there should probably be sparks shooting out of his eyes. “What the fuck was that for?” 

But Kenny doesn’t acknowledge him, isn’t even looking at him. Instead, he’s glancing over at someone in the audience, and Tweek follows the line of his sight, the blood in his veins turning to ice when he catches Craig himself standing in the middle of the aisle, his hands deep in his pockets, and his forehead furrowed slightly.

Without even being completely aware of it, Tweek is standing up and stalking towards him, his limbs so loose that he feels like he’s floating. When they’re standing face to face, Tweek reaches out and punches him on the shoulder. “What the hell was that about?” 

“I called Kenny,” Craig says, like that’s enough to explain everything. “He said I had to do something embarrassing to make it up to you. That was pretty embarrassing.” 

Tweek snorts, and he finds himself starting to smile helplessly. “For Clyde, maybe.” 

“He’ll get over it,” Craig replies dismissively, the ends of his lips curving upwards to match Tweek’s. “Did it work?” 

“Unfortunately,” Tweek breathes, and before Craig can respond, Tweek’s pulling him closer, their lips finding each other, and it’s still the same perfect fit, the way it always has been. From behind, someone starts to clap, the sound growing louder and louder until the room is shaking with the force of their applause. Tweek even hears a few catcalls and whistles coming from somewhere to his right. 

They break apart briefly, and Tweek makes a pained noise. “I guess I owe Kenny one,” he explains in the face of Craig’s confused stare.

“I think I have an idea on what he wants in return,” Craig replies, and then he’s leaning forward and bridging the gap between them. 

It’s not the first time they’ve kissed. 

And Tweek has a feeling, as his lips curl upwards to smile against Craig’s mouth, that it’s not going to be the last.

—

**MERRY EX-MAS**  
By ROBERTA FORMAN FOR MAILONLINE  
**PUBLISHED:** 13:00 GMT, 19 December 2016

OMG! Yes, that is _The Phantom of the Opera_ star, Tweek Tweak, and his boyfriend, Craig Tucker, doing some Christmas shopping for the season. The two lovebirds were recently spotted vacationing in London, where our sources tell us that an engagement ring might have been on this year’s wish list. 

Despite the rumors about Tweek being paired off with his major hottie co-star, Kenny McCormick (watch our _hilarious_ video of Kenny’s reaction to the speculation about the two of them **here** ), Tweek insists that he and Kenny are just friends. Which is just as well, because with a boyfriend like that, who needs anyone else? 

In case you’ve been living under a rock for the last three months, the story is that Tweek and Craig dated all throughout high school, only to lose touch and then reunite by chance during a stopover in Madrid. Aww! Talk about fate! 

Craig, who works as a photographer for Broflovski and Cartman Publications in New York, followed Tweek out to his film premiere in Barcelona in order to declare his love and win his man back. Now that’s what we call a fairytale ending!

—

 **Ally Stone** @ally.stone  
OMG @TweekOfficial and his boyfriend are so cute ajrejkhs #Creek

sleigh belle retweeted  
**Tweek Tweak** @TweekOfficial  
Remind me never to take @CraigTucker skydiving again…  
sleigh belle retweeted  
**Craig Tucker** @CraigTucker  
@TweekOfficial That was @KennyMcCormick screaming, not me  
**sleigh belle** @drunkcrayons  
@TweekOfficial @CraigTucker um hi can you adopt me please thanks 

**Bianca L.** @shippingtrash  
I think I just caught #Creek on a double date with @KennyMcCormick and another guy???

 **Maria Inez** @mariainez  
PSA: @KennyMcCormick’s bf is named Stan Marsh. He works with @CraigTucker 

**the baddest bitch** @emilywatson  
ugh i’m such #Creek and #Stenny trash send help 

Hannah Daniels retweeted  
**Kenny McCormick** @KennyMcCormick  
Chilling with my faves @Stan_M @KyleBroflovski  
Hannah Daniels retweeted  
**Eric Cartman** @EricCartman  
@KennyMcCormick @Stan_M @KyleBroflovski Fuck you guys

 **Audrey Davis** @lostintranslation  
lol am i the only one who still wants @TweekOfficial and @KennyMcCormick together  
**Anna Davis** @anna_davis  
@lostintranslation yes wtf why am i related to you

—

**i-ship-all**

Does anyone else think Craig Tucker and Kenny McCormick would look good together? Lol, just me? 

#they’re both so hot #ugh #crenny #??? #don’t get me wrong #i still love #creek

**15 notes**

—

**sylvia-plath** reblogged **sylvia-plath**

> how can any of you have watched kenny’s performance and tell me that he’s not a little gay

WHAT

DID 

I 

TELL 

YOU

#kenny mccormick #faves #i’m #stenny #trash

**42 notes**

—

**stuckyforlife** reblogged **tweekxcraig**

> In case you’re having a shitty day, here’s some Creek for your dash. (x)

oh GOD THEYRE SO DOMESTIC HELP ME

#send help #no seriously #i’m dead #tweek tweak #craig tucker #creek

**304 notes**

—

**tweektweakkk** reblogged **weheartcreek**

> “I dated this guy twice, what else do you want me to say about him?” - Craig Tucker  
> 

GOD BLESS CRAIG TUCKER

#no really #i love him #my son #creek #craig tucker

**2,450 notes ******

—

**bitchesforhire** reblogged **bitchesforhire**

> is it just me or is stan’s best friend, kyle, kinda cute???

NVM HE’S TOTALLY CUTE BUT TOTALLY TAKEN GOD WHY

#stan marsh #kyle broflovski #creek #why are all the good ones taken #and gay

**56 notes**

—

**tuckertweak**

everyone always talks about craig’s video for tweek but i think we can all agree that the real mvp is that clyde guy who let himself be embarrassed in front of the whole world so his bff could get laid

#text post #personal #allison rambles #creek

**76 notes**

—

**stennylover** reblogged **stan-marsh-fans**

> “If there’s anything Stan’s taught me, it’s that it’s possible to get out of the friend zone.” (x)

there is no couple cuter than stan and kenny FIGHT ME

#stenny #kenny mccormick #stan marsh #babies #otp

**98 notes**

—

 **creekofficial**

Congratulations to the newlyweds! Guess we should all start referring to Tweek as Tweek Tucker from now on.

For more news about the wedding, check out our post later today! 

#Creek #Tweek Tweak #Tweek Tucker #Craig Tucker

**14,059 notes**


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